


I'm Old, You're Old, We're Both Old

by ButtLordLunaPower



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Arthur and Francis are oldies but we love them., Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Lot's of fluff, M/M, Not Beta Read, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, really short, sweet I hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 00:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButtLordLunaPower/pseuds/ButtLordLunaPower
Summary: “I’m old anymore,”“But that still doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”Francis hummed, his fingers wrapped tighter around the man in front of him, still smiling, still happy.({Also in which Arthur and Francis are olddies but are still goodies to each other. How old they are is up to you.})





	I'm Old, You're Old, We're Both Old

**Author's Note:**

> I'm looking for beta readers.

“I’m old anymore,”

 

“But that still doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

 

Francis hummed, his fingers wrapped tighter around the man in front of him, still smiling, still happy. Still Francis. He lost most of his accent when he moved and settled in America. Through the years took their ways back to their European countries to visit family and the like. But times change and everyone got old. 

 

“I remember when you said that years ago, back is Paris.” 

 

Arthur flicked on the record player. The needle seemed to dance with them in a them. 

 

It was Mozart of the sort. Their fingers used to tangle together. Out of fear, out of hatred, out of maybe even a vicarious need to prove themselves right. But that was years ago. Fingers laced with love, affection, and and endless need to prove the other right instead. 

 

The days when they had to hide from their families. The time when they were finally married. The time where both were stressed when the adopted their twins. Moved to America. 

 

“Of course you bloody remember.” Scoffed the old Englishman as he dragged his fingers over Franci’s shoulder as they danced slowly, the Frenchman’s fingernails seemed to dig into his husbands lower back.

 

Their eyes never left each other. They never did. And typically they couldn’t. Nearly 30 years of their lived dedicated to each other. Holding each other. 

 

“And why wouldn’t I?” Arthur was softly dipped. 

 

“Maybe because you can’t seem to remember anything important.” The Brit smirked tipping his head back, a kiss landing on the upper part of his neck. 

 

“Tu es insupportable.” Francis brought him back up from their little dip and whispered into his ear. One hand no longer on the other man’s shoulder; but instead wrapped both arms around the messy blondes waist. He smiled with wrinkles 

 

“I know,” Arthur grinned, and him having just as many wrinkles and opted to wrap both his arms around Francis’ neck. 

 

They were both old, they were both aging, and maybe even still bitter. Young at heart, yet old arguments from years ago showed they won’t be de-aging anytime soon. No longer would they have to worry about love affairs, nor would they worry about money like they did in college. The days when the home was filled with the sound of cried, and even the sound of laughter. Restless nights with one of the boys with the flu, nor tired nights were they all fell asleep on the couch. 

 

Arthur missed the loud snores and the loud atmosphere the man had tried so desperately to get away from, only to soon realize he enjoyed the rambunctious exclaimed of delight and whimpers of sadness. Boys staying up later than they’re meant to with long whispers into the night, leading to tired mornings.

 

Francis missed the workload, the restaurant that their eldest twin had taken over just for them that he ran with his husband. Matthew with his German (supposedly Prussian) wife in uptown New York. Both son’s successful, with their own families and their own prospects. Wonderful lives they had, and Francis and Arthur were grateful. 

 

“I’m old.” Arthur muttered as the music ended swiftly and almost silently. 

 

“We’re old.” Francis chuckled into Arthur’s ear with another smile and a shuttered breath. 

 

The connected their hands together again. 

 

There it was. That spark. 

 

The spark that ignited their tense arguments and awkward kisses on the cheeks. Igniting love and hatred all at once. Igniting hate sex, slowly blossoming into sex with affection and caress. Releasing years and months of pent up bitterness because he was in love, and even now they both fell deeper and deeper in love every day, it was continuous and Arthur thought he’d never be able to experience it.  But he did, and he still does. 

 

Everyday Arthur will wake up with a sigh or a grunt, with the thought, “So, this is love.” 

 

Everyday when they held hands, to the bookshop Arthur loved so much, or the garden just down the street they walked to in mid spring afternoons. It was like holding it for the first time, the love, the exciting predicament they both landed themselves in was insatiable, inseparable. 

 

Till death do them part they said.  

**Author's Note:**

> Oof Beta readers is what I am looking for :)


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